“Maybe, but imagine if we did kill the hostiles. Wouldn’t you begin wondering who we’d target next? The settlers? The traders? You?” I shake my head. “Extermination isn’t the solution. We have access to resources that can remove the hostiles and treat them.”
Her brows crease whenever I mention an unfamiliar concept or term, as when I say “access to resources.” It’s the barest line between her brows, smoothed quickly. It slows her comprehension down just enough that there’s a beat pause before she catches my last words and snorts a laugh.
; “Treat them? Why?”
“That isn’t your concern. What I need from you is an understanding that this goal benefits us both. Whatever trade you have with the hostiles, as you say, it’s not worth the threat they pose. To get them out of here, though, I need to convince Rockton’s leaders that we’re dealing with a serious threat.”
“Then show them those bodies. That should be explanation enough.”
“The council doesn’t live in town.”
One brow arches. “You allow yourselves to be ruled by outsiders?”
“Ask Owen how Rockton is run. He’ll explain. For now, yes, those with the money and the resources to solve this aren’t in Rockton. Of course I’m going to tell them about the bodies. I can even send photos. I’m hoping the fact that the victims are outsiders will help. The last thing anyone needs is a team from Dawson combing the forest for lost tourists.” I pause. “People visiting from outside the Yukon.”
She gives me a withering look. “We travel into Dawson, Casey. I know what a tourist is. That’s why I’m hoping to make a trip before summer, when they invade like mosquitoes. I can’t imagine how fewer of them would be cause for concern, but I will take your word on that.”
She leans back. “Now, I suppose I’m supposed to tell you that I understand and will provide my information for free.”
“No, you’re supposed to understand that I’ve shared information with you, information I would rather keep to myself. Whatever you have, I expect to pay for it. I just don’t expect the bullshit of posturing and negotiating and spending half my fucking morning prying it from you … only to realize I’ve paid for something I could have found out myself for free.”
She refills her coffee before sitting back on her log. “Oh, you won’t find it, Casey. And you are going to pay for it. Despite all this blathering that’s supposed to convince me it’s in my best interests to tell you everything I know.”
“I would never not pay for information from you, Cherise, because you’d hold it over my head. I want an even accounting. All this ‘blathering,’ as you call it, is supposed to convince you that I’m not screwing around. If you distract me with time-wasting bullshit, you won’t ever trade with Rockton again.”
Her blue eyes flash. She doesn’t like that. But she only says, “I want more coffee, and I want condoms. Owen says Rockton has lots of both. I also want money. Five hundred dollars before my next trip to Dawson.”
“Two pounds of coffee. Two hundred and fifty dollars. And as many condoms as you two need to keep from reproducing.”
She snickers at that. “Funny girl. You’re going to regret that offer, though. We need a lot.”
“We get them by the caseload.”
“Five pounds of coffee. Three hundred and fifty dollars. If you see what I have and you can convince me it’s not worth that, I’ll reopen negotiations. But I don’t think you’re going to be able to do that.”
“Then we have a deal.”
TWELVE
Cherise won’t tell me what she has. She needs to show me. Which means more time spent in their company, but it’s quicker to endure than to argue. First, though, we need to return to our camp and dismantle it. We manage to talk Cherise into meeting us partway to her “spot,” so we don’t leave the ATV and dirt bike behind. We break camp quickly and ride the vehicles to the rendezvous spot where the couple are already waiting.
When Owen eyes my dirt bike, Cherise says, “No.”
He glances over.
“First, you’re too big for that. It’s a child’s toy. Fortunately for Casey, she’s child-size.”
I could point out that I’m not abnormally small for an adult woman—just small compared to her. That would make Cherise think she’d found a sore point, though, so I keep quiet.
“Two,” she continues, “it runs on gas. Not air. Not wood. Not water. Not anything we have in abundance.”
She motions for us to follow her into the woods. She’s carrying one of the rifles and nothing more. Owen gets the pack. He doesn’t complain. As Cherise said, he’s a simple man—food, shelter, and sex, and he’s good, especially if he doesn’t need to bother with the logistics of attaining any of that.
Behind their backs, I motion from my pack to Dalton and lift my brows. He hooks a thumb at Storm, offering her services instead. I laugh under my breath and shake my head. I wouldn’t want a guy who uncomplainingly carries my backpack when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself. No more than I’d want one who insisted on carrying it to be chivalrous.
As we walk, we talk. Or Cherise and I do, while Dalton eyes Owen as one would a rabid wolf. I swear Dalton growls under his breath every time Owen gets within three feet of me.